


Music of the Heart

by Zoril



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Pining, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Short One Shot, one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25415152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoril/pseuds/Zoril
Summary: Geralt has trouble sleeping and Jaskier is in love.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	Music of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Very short one-shot I whipped up today for fun. I completely ship these two but fair warning, within this fic no romantic tension is resolved.

Geralt had once likened Jaskier’s singing to “receiving a pie without filling,” which Jaskier knew simply wasn’t true. He hadn’t performed in courts across the land and managed to get every bard in the northern kingdoms to perform his songs without having talent. In Geralt’s defence, he had been quite sleep deprived and grumpy at the time, or so Jaskier told himself. 

Sometimes he wondered though, if Geralt genuinely hated his music. The man would occasionally complain if they were riding and Jaskier couldn’t choose between this word or that, resulting in him singing both versions of the verse repeatedly until Geralt threatened to crack his lute over his head. In towns, he never joined in or clapped along with his music, preferring to sit in the back and brood until Jaskier brought his hard earned coin over to buy them drinks. But sometimes, if the days had been nice and the hunts easy, the townsfolk kind and the crowd sung with passion, Jaskier could look up from his performance and find Geralt watching him with the tiniest of smiles. A subtle tug of his lips that he’d miss if he blinked.

This was not one of those nights.

Geralt always claimed that they didn’t bother him. The townsfolk who hurled curses at him and called him a monster. Jaskier had known the stoic man long enough to realize it wasn’t true. Not in the slightest. 

Geralt had killed yet another monster that had been harassing yet another town for yet again, less coin than it was worth. However this time people had gotten killed during the hunt as the beast rampaged through the village. The townsfolk blamed Geralt. Not that they needed to, the fool already blamed himself like always. For as much as Geralt claimed he didn’t care, he always took it hard when innocents got caught in the crossfire. He retreated within himself, talking less and avoiding towns until he felt ready to shoulder the weight of the world again. And this time was no different.

“Fuck off, ya buncha bastards!” Jaskier yelled back. They were walking out of town, an angry mob at their back. They had been kicked from the inn they were staying in, forced to grab their things and get back on the road.

“I knew having a witcher here was bad luck.” “Bastard doesn’t even care.” “My daughter’s dead because of you!” “Don’t ever come back here.” “He’s the true beast we needed to be rid of.” 

The insults boiled Jaskier’s blood even though they were not aimed at him. More people would have died had Geralt not been there, but of course these idiots couldn’t see past their grief and fear long enough to understand. Geralt didn’t deserve this, any of it. 

They were deep into the woods now, having walked in silence together until the sun set. From experience Jaskier knew trying to comfort the witcher with words would be pointless. So as they set up camp for the night, Jaskier kept his complaints of the cold and lack of a bed or bath to himself.

As they lie side by side in their separate bedrolls Jakier turned to stare at Geralt’s back, he wished for anything to relax the tense muscles that lie underneath. It was pathetic really. This pining that had taken over so many years of his life. It had started off as a simple lust. Regardless of what the common folk thought, Geralt was incredibly handsome, yellow eyes and all. So when Jaskier saw him sitting there in that inn, the only one not throwing bread at his head, he was encaptured. 

Of course that was before he knew the man was a self sacrificing fool who would risk his life for the very people that hated him on a regular basis. A man who rarely let himself feel any sort of lasting happiness or pleasure lest it be a quick tumble in the sheets, or, in some cases, a collapsed building.

Jaskier had quickly found himself falling in love and following this man across the northern kingdoms. Occasionally, they would part ways, but always, they would come back together again soon enough. And that had been Jaskier’s life for the past decade or so. It was enough, he told himself, to just be by his side. Patching him up when he was injured, being trusted to wash his hair, and sharing warmth at night in the colder seasons. The rare moments of intimacy they had were kept close to his heart. 

“Jaskier” Geralt whispered, just barely loud enough for Jaskier to hear. 

“Mm?” Jakier hummed, turning his head to look at Geralt’s back once more. 

“Would you…” Geralt paused, “Never mind.”

“Now, none of that. What is it?” 

A long moment passed before Geralt spoke up again, so quiet Jaskier had to lean towards him to hear.

“Would you sing to me?”

Jaskier could feel his heart swell with fondness for the witcher. Rather than tease him, which would likely cause Geralt to close off and remain grumpy for the days to come, Jaskier said,

“Of course” 

Privately he thought, ‘My dear I would do anything for you’

Jaskier turned onto his side and inched close enough to feel the warmth emanating off Geralt’s back, but making sure not to touch. He proceeded to sing softly, until his witcher’s shoulders had slackened and his breathing deepened. It could have been only a few moments or hours, Jaskier wasn’t really sure, nor did he care. He was just glad to have another memory to add to his heart's collection.


End file.
